Race Rhumble: Racing at Full Blast

Dockside prep at the Royal Nova Scotia Yacht Squadron.

By Jim Snair

“TURN THE BOAT DOWN!”

Those words still ring true in my memory weeks after the most recent running of the Marblehead to Halifax Race. I was onboard a 36’ J/111 called Blast and we were sailing fast (double-digit fast) up the coast of Nova Scotia off of Port Joli.

At just after midnight Monday (technically Tuesday), the watch had changed leaving five of us on deck. We were all clipped on, the boat charging down waves under her spinnaker, full main and our #1 jib up. We were easily maintaining 11to 12 knots and were surfing into 14 and 15 knots. Our top speed recorded earlier that evening was 15.4 knots.

We had a windspeed of about 20 to 22 knots and were sailing a course of about 110 degrees. This course was about 20 degrees off the rhumbline, but we were anticipating a gybe on the final approach to Halifax Harbour.

Matt: “Turn the boat down!”
John: “I am! Nothing’s happening …”

With little warning the boat spun the bow to starboard, broaching port side down, off the top of a wave – the constant din of the water roaring past the transom at speed immediately replaced by the combined noises of Spectra and Dacron sheets snapping, Kevlar, Carbon and AirX sails flogging violently. The boat was heeled over about 70 degrees and spinning quickly head to wind; as she passed head to wind we stood up. The sails reloaded with wind and we went screaming down a wave only to spin and broach to windward, this time putting the starboard side down as the main boom crashed across and the spinnaker pushing itself between the headstay and mast.

I was on the leeward side when the first broach happen, pushing upwards on the stanchion and now I am clinging to the stanchion on the high side – yet I haven’t moved. The boat continued its spin going head to wind again and returning upright. The sails filled once again and we broached to port side down again. Darkness and fog surrounded our boat and we were on our third broach. Allie was across from me, Graeme beside her, all three of us forward of the traveller, three crew were below, John at the wheel and Matt on the mainsheet. We all were focused on hanging on and ducking the boom and wildly loading and unloading sheets. We continue to spin and as we stand up the boat goes through head to wind again and for the second time we broach to starboard – again I find myself hanging onto the stanchion. As we broach for the fourth time Sandy makes it on deck and releases the main halyard; Matt sheets the falling main in hard. Three of us pull the main down to the boom and tie it; our broach-athon has ended but our spinnaker and jib are still up and flogging.

Mark and Mike check for water below and then head on deck. The emergency tiller is handed aft and installed but it spins on the rudder post cap … we have to go to plan “C” (whatever that is) but we still have to get the other two sails down.

I move to the pit (my job onboard; in the dark from memory prepare to release the spin halyard – five crew form a line from cabintop to the bow to begin the retrieval of the spinnaker in this uncontrolled environment, I watch and wait for hand signals (we can’t hear much but the noise from the sails) and we lower the spinnaker into the main cabin. A few minutes later we get the jib rolled up – now lying ahull, we are still making 4 to 5 knots sliding off the wave tops.
We turn our focus to the steering problem. We open up the lazerrette and gain access to the rudder post and quadrant. Our rudder post is still visible but weeping water around its compressed gasket. We decide to use the Spectra strops that are used as quadrant stops to rebuild our steering system. We cut the strops and tie lines through the spin blocks to the genoa winches to re gain steering.

For a moment we feel like we are in “okay” shape and can continue racing. We are learning to steer the boat using two crew, one on each winch, easing and tightening the control lines now attached to the quadrant and rudder post.

Since we have a leak and possibly a bigger problem looming, four of us have a quick meeting below. We don’t know the condition of our rudder blade nor do we fully appreciate what is wrong with our rudder post, but we do know that it has slipped downwards and the seal is compressed and slightly torn. We have some leakage and a crude steering system. We decide to contact the Guardship for the Race, HMCS Summerside, to advise her of our position and situation. We report no injuries and no immediate danger, but we are jury rigged.

We then decide to return to racing and unfurl the jib as a test of our ability to steer in these waves – our compass course to finish is approximately 85 degrees. Winds are still 20 to 22 knots from astern. Within moments of unfurling our jib our boat is uncontrollable; our direction varies from 270 through to 150 degrees – the large waves from astern and slow turns of our rudder are not compatible.

Around 0115hrs to 0130hrs we decide that retiring from the Race was our only option.

Not long after we doused our jib and turned on our engine, we heard a fog horn – nothing showing on our AIS system but we slowed the boat to almost a standstill and waited and listened. The horn was not heard again. Thirty-four miles off Port Joli, no cellular phone service, no satellite phone service we contacted HMCS Summerside again to advise them of our decision to head for port.

We had to decide on which port was close versus our onboard issues. We weren’t sinking but we might lose the rudder so we had to be alert to this potential. We knew that services were slim until we got to Lunenburg so we set our course for Cross Island. Making 5 to 6 knots was a slow, sufferable speed to make landfall by but we had no other option. We were cold, wet, tired and likely a bit in shock having just dealt with a very serious situation. A watch system of 1/2hour on, one hour off was set up allowing the crew to grab sleep and dry clothes. With the damp fog and cool conditions we had to be mindful of the crew’s health as well.

As we got closer to the coast we made contact with Race Control and advised them of our status and decision to head for Lunenburg.

By daybreak we were about five miles south of Cross Island and we reconsidered our plans. We were making decent time and we needed a repair at a capable yard, one that would “understand” the boat. We extended our course to South Shore Marine, near Chester. We worked on the steering system a bit more by gaining access through the binnacle and reloaded the chain on the sprocket, however, we limited our rudder movement to about 30 degrees total knowing our rudder was being held in place by a quadrant that was now misaligned with the balance of the steering gear. Too much turning of the rudder would unload the wire from the quadrant.

Just after 7 a.m. we contacted the owner of SSM and advised him of our issue and requirements (an immediate haulout needed) along with our ETA. Shawn from SSM met us outside the mooring field and assisted us to the haulout dock.

Just after 10:30 a.m. we were in the slings and our boat was hauled. Our rudder was intact but had slipped down three inches. As it turned out the rudder cap was not bolted to the rudder post (something since corrected on all sisterships). We were met dockside by family, friends and hot coffee and warm food. It was a treat to be ashore.

While we were disappointed we were unable to finish, we were, in retrospect, happy to have been able to guide our boat and crew safely to shore in trying conditions.

Some lessons learned and closing thoughts: We had a total of eight crew, and all had prior offshore experience, the least experienced having over 300 nautical miles offshore. Five of us had recently taken the Safety at Sea course. In the beginning, middle and end of our issues, the crew took direction, offered encouragement and performed tasks as required with no fuss. Each decision predicated an action and another decision and another action – our last broach was followed by a main halyard release and it was likely the first step – getting rid of that dangerous boom gibing back and forth that led us down the path to successfully bringing boat and crew home.

As a requirement, the organizing committee requires that 1/3 of the crew take the Safety at Sea course – in our view, we most certainly agree that “in the moment” our training took over and panic did not complicate the situation.

It’s equally important to have a couple crew through a first-aid course – training adds to the confidence and the calmness required in emergency situations.

I’m looking forward to my next offshore ride! Sailing offshore at 15knots is a Blast!

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Jim Snair is the Managing Broker of
sunnybrookyachts.com